Cards in the Cloak

by Jeremy Bursey

  Chapter 13

  “The Choice of Bingo”

  Bingo night remained one of Norman’s least favorite nights of the week, but it never failed that the nurses forced him to participate anyway. At the start of a Bingo day, he found much contentment in hiding peacefully in his room—preferably beneath his sheets where no one would bother him. But the over-protectors in white uniforms always assumed he would have more fun socializing at the Bingo table, even when he protested, so they drove him out of his room around dinnertime and ushered him to the community area to keep tabs on his whereabouts throughout the evening. That was the way it had worked each week, and that was the way it worked this time, as well.

  On this particular evening, Norman sat in the corner of the cafeteria, watching the other residents blindly hover over their Bingo cards, hoping to locate the magical numbers that the Bingo nurse drew from the ball dispenser. He had a game card in his possession a little earlier in the evening, but it had mysteriously disappeared when he bent down to pick up a red chip that had fallen on the floor. His only lead to the mysterious disappearance was the sneaky old man who had coasted down the aisle in his fancy wheelchair around the time Norman had bent over. But, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to prove the man’s guilt because no one was actually paying attention. So he kept his mouth shut.

  Now that he had nothing else to do, Norman switched his focus from the preoccupied residents to the Bingo nurse with the Santa hat. The nurse stood at the front of the cafeteria in her holiday garb, speaking out the numbers with a smile. She was a woman he hadn’t seen much of before. He could tell by her demeanor that she was friendlier than the more seasoned nurses around here. The friendliness she displayed didn’t automatically make her trustworthy in Norman’s eyes, of course, but her newness to the community padded the safety rating on her résumé. As he watched her, Norman hoped the current nurses wouldn’t ruin her by shaping her into their own mold. So far she seemed well enough removed from their evil ways to be likeable. But his faith in her lasting ethical purity remained dim. It was a sad thing for him to think about because he didn’t want to see a good nurse turn bad, but he thought that it was better that he saw her in her early form than in her later, more sinister form.

  The Bingo nurse smiled as she pulled a ball from the lottery dispenser and gave it a good look.

  “N-44,” she said. “The number is N-44. Do I have a Bingo? Is anyone close to Bingo yet?”

  A few liver-spotted hands slowly lifted.

  “That’s super,” she continued. “You just keep going. Endurance will pay off.”

  She cheerfully pulled another ball from the bin and spun it between her fingers until she was able to successfully read the number.

  “B-12,” she said. “Ooh, I think we picked a vitamin. Anybody take their B-12 today?”

  A few more hands went up.

  Even though Norman thought the Bingo nurse was friendly, her personality got on his nerves, so he decided that he had enough. Sitting there watching the other residents play a game that he had no participation in added to his deteriorating patience, so he elected to depart from the community area for the evening. A part of him felt that no one would really miss him if he left, while the other part believed that no one would care, so he had no convictions about his choice. The chair he sat in was sturdy, so he grabbed the back and stood. Once his balance was secure, he scuffed the chair along the floor and used its support to walk. Some of the nearby residents grimaced at him as the chair scraped on by, but he smiled anyway to make the point clear that he didn’t care. Now committed to fulfill his act to completion, he continued walking until he made it into the hallway, where both silence and freedom awaited. Only, when he got there, he didn’t find freedom. Or silence. He found Nurse Bullard standing by the door with her fists akimbo to her hips.

  “Where are you going, Mister Jenson?” she asked. She was breathing erratically.

  “I was thinking about going to the bathroom,” he said. “Did you want to hold my hand?”

  “Sir, you have to stay inside the cafeteria until the Bingo game is finished. That’s the rules.”

  “But, somebody stole my card. I don’t have anything to do.”

  “You can help one of the others find their numbers. Only a few can see well.”

  Norman focused on the nurse’s demeanor. She stood like a tree trunk, crossing her thick arms together. He wasn’t sure he could get past her.

  “Can I just go to my room?” he asked. “The lady inside is putting me to sleep.”

  “Now, Mister Jenson, if I let you go back to your room, then you have to take your pill. Is that understood?”

  Norman felt the fork in the road now. On the one hand, he could choose to stay in the cafeteria for another couple of hours, suffering the punishment of bearing witness to a woman who was excited by Bingo. It was nice to have people around, certainly, but he was unlikely to engage in any interesting conversations, so he would’ve been left with staring at a game he couldn’t play. Not ideal. On the other hand, he could return to his room and be forced to eat the little white tablet that consistently made his body numb, which he hated. Not as boring as watching Bingo, but unpleasant nonetheless. Either choice came with the possibility of regret, but based on the amount of time he had already spent staying awake, he thought that maybe peace and quiet was the way to go.

  He made his decision, hoped it wasn’t the wrong one, and allowed Nurse Bullard to escort him back to his room. While he made his way across the floor and carefully sat on his bed, Nurse Bullard filled a cup with water from the sink in the bathroom. As he situated himself next to the pillow, the nurse brought him the water. Then she handed him the pill. He took it and swallowed it with the water.

  “Open your mouth so I know you won’t spit it out when I leave,” she said.

  Norman opened his mouth to show her his honesty, hoping his breath was fouler than evil. She nodded with approval.

  “Okay, Mister Jenson. You have a pleasant night.”

  Nurse Bullard turned on her heels and shook the floor as she waddled her way out of the room. The back of her right stocking was split down the middle, pierced by a coarse strip of unshaven hair. For a moment, Norman wanted to groan. But the feeling passed when he felt his body going numb.

  Once his ability to sense his skin slowly faded, he decided it was time to lie down. It was difficult for him to lower his body onto the mattress because he wasn’t entirely sure which muscles were still operational, but he managed to make himself horizontal nonetheless. He closed his eyes as soon as he touched his head to the pillow. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he would fall asleep.

  “Comfortable?” asked a man from nearby.

  The unexpected break in silence startled Norman, but he was too numb to physically show it. Something about the man’s voice seemed mysteriously familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. It was an identity from his past, though he wasn’t sure from how far. It sounded like it could’ve belonged to his estranged grandson, but only for a moment.

  “Jimmy?” he said. “Is that you? You finally came to visit me?”

  “I visited you before,” said the voice.

  “When? I thought your brother and sister were the ones who brought me the birthday card. They said you weren’t with them.”

  “It was about that time.”

  Norman couldn’t feel his body anymore, but he hoped he was positioning himself to face the door.

  “Did something happen to your voice, Jimmy?” he asked. “You sound a little hoarser than I remember.”

  “My voice is the same.”

  “Are you sure? You sound almost like—”

  Norman opened his eyes to get a good look at his grandson. Only, it wasn’t his grandson.

  “Death,” he continued. “Oh, what do you want now?”

  The Reaper slid his hood back to reveal his glowing face. He extended his hand to Norman.

  “Forget it,” said Norman. “I can’t move. This ro
tten pill paralyzed me.”

  “Well,” said the Reaper, “then I guess I have to carry you out.”

  “Look, I know you have a schedule to keep and all, but I’m really close to the new century. Think you could come back later?”

  “Norman, we went through this before. When I came back for you, you would need to come with me. I’m sorry if this ruins your plans, but it’s my job. That’s just the way it works. You remember jobs, right? The thing you went to and did stuff a particular way because that was how it worked. Believe it or not, this thing I’m doing, this taking your hand and ushering you to the other side thing—that’s my job. It’s not my place to change the rules just because you want them changed.”

  “I changed the rules for people all the time when I ran the Hat Shoe. It’s how I kept my business afloat. ‘Treat the customer with dignity’ was my motto. Do you not treat the customer with dignity in your little Angel of Death Guild of yours?”

  “It’s the Reapers Guild, and of course we do. But if it makes you feel any better, you were originally rescheduled for some time next year.”

  “So, get your bony hands away from me and come back next year.”

  The Reaper wiped his forehead.

  “It’s not that simple. See, there’s a lot of paperwork involved when we shift people around, and we’re so busy with wars and drunk driving and stuff that we can’t set aside any time for ourselves. It’s a big mess for everyone, really. You mortals think you have it bad when any of us show up at your door, but at least you get your chance to enjoy some sort of social life before that day. We reapers on the other hand get so astronomically busy with our scheduling and deliveries that we never have the time to take a breather, or to catch up on life, or to finish what we started. Do you realize that another reaper and I have been in the middle of the same game of Black Jack for the last hundred years? Every time I get a chance to look at my hand, my pager goes off and I have to respond. It’s a complicated business.”

  “And yet you still have time to argue with me.”

  “Well that’s actually part of the job. You would be amazed by how many people try to plea for their lives.”

  “I’m not that amazed. Most of us are curious about what events tomorrow will bring, and would rather live long enough to find out. I’d be more amazed by how many people are actually willing to let go than I am of those who want to hold on. Speaking of which, if I was rescheduled for next year, what are you doing here now?”

  “Hmm, excellent question, and for that you deserve an excellent answer. Evidently that nurse gave you the wrong pill this evening. It was an accident, of course, but she set the resident prescription pills next to the rat poison pills when she bent down to tie her shoe. She split her stockings in the process, and became distracted by it when she stood up and took your bottle. Only, she wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing and grabbed for the wrong bottle. Not the brightest bulb in the lamp, that one is. It’s pretty funny if you think about it.”

  Norman took a moment to ponder this. For a second he wished he had stuck with the Bingo lady. As boring as she was to him, he thought listening to her for another couple of hours would’ve been better than listening to the death call of a glowing guy in a black cloak. As he saw the Reaper coming closer to him, Norman screamed.

  “Get away from me,” he shouted. “Get away from me.”

  The Reaper put his hands up.

  “Please stop yelling,” he said. “You’re likely to wake the dead.”

  The Reaper chuckled at his own pathetic joke. Norman wanted to reach out and smack him, if one could beat death. But he continued to scream instead.

  “Norman,” said the Reaper, “could you maybe make this easy on both of us? This song and dance is a little old now.”

  Norman was ready to scream all night if he had to. He strained his lungs to continue his fit, but the feeling had started getting uncomfortable. The Reaper stretched out his hand.

  Almost immediately, Nurse Bullard stomped into the room, nearly shaking the picture frames off the walls.

  “What are you screaming about, Mister Jenson?” she asked. “Did I not ask you to be calm tonight?”

  The Reaper slid his sleeve back and looked at his watch. He rolled his eyes as he shook his head. Nurse Bullard in all her girth plowed right through him and stopped a few feet shy of Norman. She punched her fists akimbo to her hips and leaned forward like a pecking hen.

  “Will you answer me?”

  “What did you give me rat poison for?” he asked. “This isn’t my time to die.”

  “What are you talking about, Mister Jenson? Have we been letting you stay up too late?”

  “I’m not delusional, you witch. Check your pockets.”

  “Sir, I don’t know what checking my pockets will prove. I gave you your muscle relaxant, and that’s final. Don’t you feel relaxed?”

  “I feel like strangling you if I could move. Put your hand in your pocket and pull out what you got. Right now.”

  “Go back to bed, Mister Jenson.”

  Nurse Bullard turned around to face the door, once again exposing that ugly looking tear in the back of her stocking. Even though he could feel the inside of his lungs beginning to tighten, Norman screamed again, as loud as his failing body would allow him. The nurse quickly faced him a second time, wearing the most horribly angry face he had ever seen.

  “Okay, stop,” she shouted. “I’ll check my damn pockets. Just shut up already before I lock you up in the dark room and throw away the key.”

  The nurse reached into her pocket and pulled out a white bottle. She pushed it in Norman’s face.

  “See, it’s just your medicine. Now, quit your complaining.”

  She smiled as she brought it out of his face, showing her yellow teeth in her self-proclaimed victory.

  “You old fools are too paranoid for your own good.”

  “Read the bottle, you ignorant hag,” Norman said.

  Nurse Bullard chuckled to herself before humoring Norman with his request. She looked at the bottle to prove her confidence, but her eyes grew wider and her smile flatlined as the skull and crossbones came into her view. Norman noticed a vein in her neck pulsating twice as fast as it had done before she’d read the label. But it wasn’t until she bolted out the door that he realized he was completely alone.

  Norman strained to keep his eyes open as he felt his body shifting from numbness to stiffness. His breathing seized on occasion, leaving him gasping for air, but he held on for as long as possible. He knew that he couldn’t close his eyes for more than a second or else his tormentor would return. The hooded one, that was.

  The minutes that passed were progressively longer than the ones before. He thought for sure each moment would be his last, but somehow he endured the stretch of the hourglass.

  Some amount of time later, Norman heard sirens coming from outside. He wasn’t sure what kind of sirens they were, but they sounded medically related. He tried to move his arms to push himself up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of commotion, but he couldn’t do it. Accepting his disabilities, Norman reasoned that lying down would have been more comfortable anyway.

  Before Norman could imagine his next thought, three paramedics rushed into his room with a gurney and a series of lifesaving medical equipment in their possession. The largest member of the medical team reached behind Norman’s shoulders and carefully raised him up about an inch. After securing the hold, the other two paramedics took their positions—the smallest taking the legs, and the middle guy reaching under Norman’s back. With a 1-2-3 lift, the paramedics gently, but swiftly, placed him on the gurney and strapped him to it. Upon securing him to the platform, the large paramedic placed an oxygen mask over Norman’s mouth and adjusted the controls on its host machine. Everything went dark after that.